


Just Pretending

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dating, Deception, Explicit Sexual Content, Jealousy, M/M, Sherlock Has A Boyfriend, secret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 09:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5159417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they first met, Sherlock told John he wasn't interested in relationships. That changed soon after John moved in. But instead of simply telling John how he feels, Sherlock decides to pay someone to help him show John he's capable of love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Script

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe.
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments. They mean a lot -- sometimes they inspire new ideas and works, sometimes they just make us feel all warm inside.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

"You can't be high," Sherlock said.

"I'm not right now," Stephen said.

Sherlock leaned closer to look at his face. "But you have been within the last 48 hours," he said.

Stephen looked down, embarrassed. "I'm trying to get clean," he muttered.

"Well, perhaps this will help, because you cannot be high -- he's a doctor, he'll know. Billy said I could trust you, I hope he was right," Sherlock said. He took out a stack of notes and slid them across the table. "You'll need to get some decent clothes."

Stephen took the money and put it in his jacket. "I will," he said. "You can trust me. I'm getting my life in order -- I am. This isn't for anything criminal, is it?"

"No," Sherlock said. He glanced around the cafe to make sure there was no one there he recognised or who might recognise him. "Have you got a phone?"

Stephen got his phone out, and Sherlock took it from him. He added his number with his initials. "Don't ever type my name in here," he said as he handed it back to him. "Send me a text so I've got yours."

Stephen quickly did and Sherlock saved the number. "Are you sure this is all legit?" Stephen asked nervously. "I can't get into any more trouble . . ."

Sherlock took an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Stephen. "Nothing illegal, it's like an acting job -- it's just pretending," he said. "Read that. It'll explain how we met and what you need to know. Get yourself cleaned up and kitted out -- our first meeting will be tomorrow night. Make this work and you can list me as a former employer."

Stephen laughed a little. "What am I going to write -- that you hired me to be your prostitute?"

Sherlock leaned over the table and grabbed his wrist. "We need to be very clear on this," he said seriously. "There will be nothing like that. It'll just be acting and none . . . of that. Do you understand? If you can't do this and keep your mouth shut, tell me right now. I am a very good person to do favours for, but I am a very bad one to annoy. Do you understand?"

Stephen looked up at him. "I can do this favour for you," he said.

"Good," Sherlock said, trying to lighten his face a little. "Go get yourself sorted and I'll be in touch about tomorrow."

Stephen finished his tea. "Thanks for this," he said. "I mean it, you can trust me. I won't let you down." They stood up and headed out of the cafe.

When Sherlock got home, he made a little mess in the kitchen and then changed back into his pajamas so John would assume he'd been in all day. He lay down on the sofa and waited for John to get home from work.

John picked up dinner on his way home from a long day at work -- he was tired and wasn't looking forward to not finding any food in the flat. He walked up and looked around the kitchen with a small sigh. "What have you been working on?" he asked as he sidestepped around the mess to get a plate.

"An experiment," Sherlock said vaguely. "Sorry, I'll clean it up." He slid off the sofa and moved to the kitchen, shoving the stuff into a pile. "Did you bring food for me?" he asked.

"Of course," John said, motioning to the box still in the bag on the counter.

Sherlock smiled. "Thanks," he said, grabbing a plate and dumping some of the food onto it. He moved back to the sofa. "Was work all right?"

"It was busy," John said. He sank into his chair and started eating in earnest. "Had to skip my lunch -- I hate this time of year," he said. He had always assumed that flu season would be the worst, but at least then people actually needed a doctor. Now that it was spring most people just had allergies, which antibiotics could not help.

"Do you have plans for tonight?" Sherlock asked, setting his plate on the table.

"Oh no," John said, shaking his head. "I'm exhausted. I am going to make a mug of tea and then got to bed early, I think."

"All right," Sherlock said. "I've actually got plans . . ." He got up and put the kettle on, returning a few minutes later with two mugs. He set John's on the table and then sat back down again. "Um . . . I feel like there's something I should mention to you."

At first John thought that it was going to be a case of some sort, but the way Sherlock was leading up to it felt different. "What's up?" he asked.

"Well, since you've been here, it's been . . . great really," Sherlock said. "Your . . . friendship has meant a lot. But, of course, as you know, there are other ways people can connect and you're always out trying to find that and I guess, I've been a bit . . . lonely for that as well." He took a sip of tea. "I've not said anything but . . . I've met someone."

The first thing John felt was a sharp pang of . . . something, a strange pain in his stomach and a tightness in his chest. As he processed the information, he realised it must be because Sherlock hadn't told him he had changed his mind about all of that until now. That was all his reaction was about, so he smiled wide. "Sherlock, that's great! When did you meet? How?" he asked, turning to face him a bit better.

"Well, we'll see if it's great . . . it's quite new, obviously, and I'm not sure how it'll go," Sherlock said. "But I guess I felt like I should tell you. You know, since you always tell me about your dates."

John nodded. "Yeah, sure," he said. "Well? Tell me about it!"

"Well, he's a bit younger than me -- he works at the library, you might have seen him before. We just were talking the other week and I guess that's how it happened . . ." Sherlock said.

"That's great," John said again and patted his shoulder. "That's really great." Why did he keep repeating himself?

Sherlock looked over at John. He seemed genuinely pleased, which was not what Sherlock had expected or wanted to see. "Well," he said, standing up. "I suppose I just wanted you to know." He moved over to his desk and opened his email. There wasn't really anything there to keep his attention, but he didn't feel like talking about this anymore.

"Will I get to meet him?" John asked, getting his food again.

"Yeah, maybe," Sherlock said. "In truth actually," he added, still appearing to be concentrating on his computer, "I was thinking at some point, we might come back here . . . I mean, I can't always go to his, you know. Do you think that'd be a problem for you?"

Another sharp pang in John's gut. Maybe there was something wrong with the food -- he put it down and focused on his tea instead. 'That would be okay," he said. "I could find a reason to be out or whatever."

"All right," Sherlock said. "Maybe tomorrow night?"

"To meet him or to bring him home?" John asked.

"We're going out tomorrow -- if you want to meet him, you can," Sherlock said. "If not, well . . . perhaps you could go out."

"Well, I don't want to stay home and give him the wrong idea or anything. I'll go out -- it's a bit short notice, but I will try and figure it out."

"What do you mean, 'wrong idea'?" Sherlock asked.

"Does he know you live with me? Not that anything is going on, but he might be uncomfortable with it, new relationship and all . . ." John said.

Sherlock looked over at John. "That's an odd remark -- do you lie to your dates about living with me?" he asked.

"No, but my dates are women. If I was living with a woman, they might be worried," he said.

Sherlock thought about that for a moment. "Perhaps you should choose dates who are less suspicious," he said. "He knows about you. If you want to meet him, that's fine. If you don't, well . . . whatever." He closed up his laptop and stood up. He made himself another cup of tea. "If you're going to bed early, I might go read in my room."

John finished his tea and stood up, stretching before taking his things to the sink. "I want to meet him, but you can pick when. I'll try to find something to do tomorrow night."

"Just be home tomorrow night," Sherlock said. "This isn't a big deal, is it? I mean, you go out with people all the time."

"No! It's not a big deal. I'll be home," John said. "Good night, Sherlock." He raised his hand in a wave and headed up the stairs. He was eager to meet this person who had changed Sherlock's mind about dating. This had to be a good thing.

Sherlock went into his room and thought about what he'd just set in motion. He was tired of John going out all the time, trying to find something that was already here. There was no need for any of those women: Sherlock could give John whatever he wanted if only John would open his eyes to that fact.

That he hadn't already, Sherlock realised, was partly his own fault. He'd obviously given John the impression he was incapable of feeling love, but that's because it was Sherlock's go-to response with everyone. It was easier. But then John moved in and brought love into the flat. Despite all the changes that seemed so obvious to Sherlock, John seemed stuck on that first conversation about Sherlock not being interested in relationships. No matter how intense their friendship got or how close Sherlock came to just out-and-out saying he loved John, John seemed unable or willing to move forward.

So Sherlock had decided to show him -- literally -- that Sherlock Holmes was capable of being in a relationship. John would no longer be able to cling to that first conversation. He'd have to look at Sherlock differently, and, if all went to plan, John would realise they should be together.

John climbed into bed and stared up at the ceiling. Now that he was alone with his own thought he was able to better process what Sherlock had told him. A date . . . Sherlock was in a relationship with another person. John remembered that first conversation they had had and wondered if that had just been a defense against what he thought was a come on from John. What's wrong with me? John shook his head at the intrusive thought. Sure, a small part of him was a bit jealous, only because he liked being the only one Sherlock got on with. But he understood that this was different. He really did, and yet he still felt a strange heaviness in his chest. He shifted in bed and got more comfortable. Sherlock's being happy was important to John so if this guy made Sherlock happy, then John would have to like him.


	2. Opening Night

The next day, Sherlock stayed in his room quite late before getting up and showering. When he came out, he noticed John was already up so he filled the kettle before turning it on. "Sleep all right?" he asked, stretching a little.

John nodded, looking up from the paper. "Yeah, I did. You?" he asked. 

"Yeah," Sherlock said. "Look, I'm going to be heading out soon. Do you want us to bring you back some food or something?"

John shook his head. "I'm going into work. I will be home around six," he said.

"All right then," Sherlock said. "I guess I'll see you when we get back." He fiddled with a few things on his desk and then slipped on his coat and scarf and left.

He headed first to a cafe a few streets over and drank some tea as he read the paper. He had arranged to meet Stephen at eight so he had quite a bit of time to kill. He spent most of the afternoon reading and then ran a few errands. He picked up Stephen and in the taxi ride back to Baker Street, they went over their story.

John had another busy day at the surgery, running around non stop. He did manage to take a lunch this time, even if it was only fifteen minutes. He checked the time, eager to get home and eat some leftovers before he possibly had to rush out again. He took a cab and headed up, heating the box and eating right in the kitchen.

Sherlock led Stephen upstairs, opening the door to see John in the kitchen. He hung up his coat and helped Stephen off with his. Stephen had shopped well -- he looked quite handsome in his new clothes. They walked to the kitchen. "John," Sherlock said. "This is Stephen. Stephen, John."  
  
Stephen held out his hand. "Very nice to meet you," he said.

John smiled and shook his hand, putting his plate down. "It's nice to meet you," John said, smiling at him.

"Well, um . . . we were just going to watch a film," Sherlock said. "I think you said you were heading out for a bit?" He gave John a look and then glanced at the door.

"Right, I am," John said. He moved towards the door. "It was nice meeting you," he said again before leaving the flat quickly.

Sherlock turned to Stephen and said, "Do you want a cup of tea or are you just going to go?"  
  
"I'll stay for a cup," Stephen said. "So you fancy him then?"  
  
Sherlock glanced at him and then moved to turn on the kettle. "I suppose I do," he confessed.

"Why don't you just tell him then?" Stephen asked.

"It's really not any of your business, is it?" Sherlock said.

"No, it's not . . . just, don't get me wrong -- I'm glad for the money, this seems like a pretty easy gig, but why go to all this trouble?"

Sherlock carried the mugs over and sat one in front of Stephen. "Because we don't talk about things like this," he admitted.

"You mean, _you_ don't talk about things like this," Stephen said.

Sherlock looked over at him. What he said was true. John did talk about feelings, it was Sherlock who struggled with that kind of talk. "Yeah, I don't," he said, taking a sip of tea.

"Well, whatever, man, I don't mind doing it," Stephen said. "I hope it works out for you."

John went to a nearby pub and sat at the bar, nursing a pint to pass the time. His mind was still at the flat, imagining the two of them watching their film. He felt his stomach flip unpleasantly. John and Sherlock watched films all the time. Would they be cuddling? John would have cuddled with Sherlock -- no. They wouldn't have done that but was that something Sherlock wanted? He sipped more of his lager and sighed. Why hadn't Sherlock ever told him he had changed his mind?

Stephen left a little bit later, agreeing to play the role again the next time Sherlock needed him. Sherlock took a bath and read for a little while and then changed into his pajamas. He moved back into the kitchen, opening a bottle of wine and pouring a little into two glasses before tipping the rest of the bottle down the drain. He set the glasses next to the sink. He turned off all the lights except for one and then went into his bedroom. He took out his phone and sent John a text.

_Thanks for tonight. We're going to bed so you can come home anytime. SH_

John fished out his phone and read the text. He didn't reply. Was it strange that he had time to text John? Maybe Stephen was in the bathroom. So he was staying the whole night then? Sherlock was into more than just a relationship then . . . if they were sleeping together, they were probably, well, sleeping together. Strange. John's stomach hurt again. He drained his glass, paid, and headed back to the flat slowly.

Sherlock turned off the light and turned over in the bed. He wondered what John thought. He wondered if his plan would work.

When John arrived and hung his coat, he glanced at Sherlock's room and bit his lip. Were they in there right now? He moved close and tried to listen. Immediately he felt embarrassed and ashamed. He hurried up to his own room and shut the door, getting ready for bed. He lay down and stared at the ceiling for a long time, trying not to think about what might be happening in Sherlock's room just then.

Sherlock heard John come in and lay there as he listened to John move around the flat. He felt embarrassed really by the whole idea now. Even a drug addict could see how stupid this was. He wondered what would happen if he got up and explained everything to John. But he couldn't do that now. He'd give this stupid little trick a couple of days and if nothing happened, he'd stage a break up with Stephen and give up on any chance of John seeing the truth.


	3. The Reviews Are In

In the morning, Sherlock got up early, quietly making tea. He poured two cups and then tipped one away, before opening and closing the front door. He carried his cup of tea over to his desk and got onto his computer.

John made his way downstairs after an awful night. It took him forever to fall asleep and then he had odd dreams that he didn't remember now. As he went to get tea he saw the used mug and swallowed hard. "Morning," he said.

"Morning," Sherlock said. He looked over at John. "Sorry about last night -- I wasn't really sure how to handle it . . . I mean, well, whatever." He got up and moved into the kitchen to top up his tea. "I guess I just feel a bit awkward about all this . . ." 

"Don't worry about it," John said quickly. He moved to make some toast. "He had to go early?"

"Yeah," Sherlock said. "He had some work to do, I guess. He's busy a lot, but I like that. As you know, I'm not keen on idiots and he's clearly smart so . . . that's good." He moved over to the sofa. "Did you have a nice night?"

"Yeah, I just went to the pub for a bit," John said. He poured his tea and went to make some toast for breakfast.

"I know you didn't spend much time with him, but . . . what do you think?" Sherlock asked. He wondered what John thought about any of it -- about Sherlock's acknowledging that need, about the 'boyfriend' he'd picked, about the fact that John and Sherlock could have that together . . .

John smiled softly and shrugged. "He was nice," he said. "He's handsome enough." He glanced at Sherlock and wondered what he would think about John calling another man handsome. "If you like him, that's what matters."

Sherlock looked over at John, who was much more handsome than Stephen could ever be. "Do you think I'm handsome?" he asked.

"Of course you are," John said without hesitating.

"Why haven't you ever told me then?" Sherlock said, glancing over with a smile.

John grinned and rolled his eyes. "Your head's big enough I think," he smiled.

"You're handsome," Sherlock said. "I'm sure I've told you before but just in case I haven't, you're the handsomest man I know."

"Am not," John said, his cheeks flushing lightly. "Your boyfriend is."

"He is, that's true," Sherlock said. "But you are just a tiny bit more handsome, you know." He looked down at his computer. He was flirting with John -- even Sherlock who was not very good at these things knew that this was flirting. He wondered how John would react.

"Well, you're very nice but you can't think like that now. He's got to be the most handsome man you've ever seen." John sat down at the table to eat, avoiding his chair until this moment passed.

"That's stupid," Sherlock said. Of course, that'd be what John would do -- deflect. That's what he always did. "Whatever . . . I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't," John said quickly. "When are you seeing him again?"

"Maybe today," Sherlock said. "I like hanging out with him. Even if we don't do anything, you know . . . I don't know why really."

John focused on his toast. John was the only one Sherlock had liked hanging out with before. He wondered what made Stephen special enough to attract Sherlock's attention, and to hold it for so long. "Well, that's nice," he said.

"Nice for you, too, right?" Sherlock asked. "I mean, now you needn't feel guilty about going out without me and now I guess I won't be bothering you when you're out on your dates."

John didn't have the heart to tell Sherlock that somehow those things didn't feel so nice to him, so he just hummed in agreement. "I'll have to go out and find myself a date, then, I guess," he said.

Sherlock shut his laptop abruptly. "Do whatever you want then," he said sharply as he stood up and headed towards his bedroom. John Watson was so frustrating sometimes.

John looked up, surprised by Sherlock's sharp tone. Before he could say anything Sherlock was locked in his room. John finished his breakfast and grabbed his coat, knocking lightly on the door. "I'm going to work . . .I'll see you later," he said. 

"Fine," Sherlock called. He didn't really know what to say to John. He felt angry even though a small part of him knew that probably wasn't fair. He could see that John clearly had no idea what was going on -- John didn't seem even the slightest bit jealous. He decided to stay in his room for a bit longer to try to avoid thinking about this for a while.

John went off to work feeling bad, but unable to place exactly why. Sherlock had seemed really upset and John didn't know why. Was it his mention of getting a date himself? Maybe Sherlock wanted to be the only one, so he could rub it in John's face this time? No, that didn't make sense. It was something else, but as he arrived at work, he'd have to try and figure it out later.

When Sherlock got up, his mood wasn't much better. However, he did remind himself that he hadn't given his plan much time and although it wasn't going precisely as he'd expected, he'd put quite a lot of effort into it and it'd be stupid to abandon it so quickly. He checked his phone but hadn't received any texts from John. He sent one to Stephen.

_You're on call this evening. Will let you know if you're needed. You'll be paid either way. SH_

A few moments later, Stephen texted back to say he understood. Sherlock deleted both texts from his phone.

On his way home from work John stopped to get dinner again, this time getting Thai instead. As he waited for the food, he was standing next to a woman who was on her phone at first. When she noticed John they started chatting, she was flirting and John was feeling guilty. Why did he feel guilty? He blamed Sherlock for that. He took her number and promised to call, leaving the restaurant.

As he was walking, he noticed someone familiar in front of him -- it was Stephen. He was on his phone -- was he talking to Sherlock? Was he heading to the flat? John looked around for a cab, wanting to beat him there. But then he caught a bit of conversation.

" . . . yeah, almost done with this job, I think. If we were having sex it'd be illegal."

John sped up to get a little closer.

" . . . pretending to be his boyfriend, but not for much longer. It's easy money, really."

Stephen turned into an alley while John stood there and watched him disappear. Was he talking about Sherlock? Why was he pretending to be dating him? Who had hired him? John got irrationally angry, picking up speed to get back home. He had to tell Sherlock.


	4. The Second Show

Sherlock had spent the rest of the afternoon trying to drum up business online. He wanted to think of something else besides this little project. He hadn't been entirely successful, but maybe something would come in the next few days. He realised he hated waiting. He hated waiting for clients and he hated waiting for John to figure out the truth. But there was little he could do about either except move forward with his plans. He got dressed and ready to go out -- just in case. He didn't really fancy spending time with Stephen, but he might have to. Maybe he should involve someone else -- maybe if they bumped into Lestrade or Molly -- maybe that might push John over the edge? Regardless, whether or not they spent time together tonight, he'd need to pay Stephen; until he'd decided precisely what to do about all this, he'd need to keep him onside and money seemed to be the way to ensure that. He put the kettle on. John was a little late, but should be home soon.

John walked into the flat a couple minutes later, calling out for Sherlock right away. He hoped Sherlock believed him. John was just looking out for his best interests. That's all it was -- it was nothing personal. It wasn't about jealousy at all, he'd convinced himself. He had to tell Sherlock the truth.

"Settle down, I'm right here," Sherlock said. He carried John's mug over to him. "What's the problem?"

"I just -- I have to tell you something," John said.

"All right," Sherlock said. "I'm listening." He sat down. "Is something wrong?"

"I . . . I don't like Stephen, I've decided." John internally winced at the way it came out.

"I see," Sherlock said, trying to keep his face entirely neutral. "And on what information have you based this decision?"

"I saw him just now, heard him on the phone," John said. As he watched Sherlock's face he wondered if he could actually say it. It would hurt him, and the last thing he wanted to do was see Sherlock hurt. But if it kept on, it would be worse, John knew that. "I-I think he's tricking you."

"You think someone is tricking Sherlock Holmes?" Sherlock asked. He watched John's face -- was this just a ploy to get rid of Stephen so John could step into his place? Did this mean Sherlock's plan was working?

"Um, yes," John said. "Someone is paying him to . . . it's just a job to him . . . being with you," he rambled, unsure if he was making any sense. 

"I see," Sherlock said again. "So you're saying the only way someone could possibly be interested in me is if they are being paid?"

"No! Of course not," John said quickly. "Just . . . I heard it from his own mouth," he said.

"Right," Sherlock said. "So what -- he's a killer? A spy?" He took a sip of tea and then looked over at John. "Is this just because you like to be the only one who's attractive to people? We're fine if women are interested in you but there's a problem if someone's interested in me?"

"That's not what I'm saying!" John said. "You are handsome-- you can find someone better," he insisted. Why was Sherlock so insistent on defending this guy?

"I haven't though, have I? I've not --" Sherlock started and then stopped. "John, I appreciate your concern, but I'm sure you've made a mistake. There's nothing wrong with him. He's fine. I'm fine."

"Just -- just be careful. Obviously you're very clever, but . . . I know this is all new to you," he said. He felt deflated and upset. He had expected Sherlock to believe him without question, but somehow Stephen had become more important than John. He knew that was unfair to think about. It was just different. John would be here for him when Sherlock finally realised the truth.

"I am clever, John," Sherlock said. "Just -- you know, one day you'll find what you're looking for and you'll leave and I'll be alone." He finished his tea. "Just . . . I thought you'd be happy about this."

"I will not!" John said without thinking. Did Sherlock really think that? Of course -- why wouldn't he? It was probably true -- if John found someone to love, what would he do, move her in here as well? Of course not. "I just want you to be happy," he said. "But it won't be with him, Sherlock."

"Well, it won't be with you gone either," Sherlock said, standing up. He carried his mug to the sink. "I'm going out tonight," he said. For some reason at the moment, he just wanted to be out of the flat.

John swallowed hard. "I can't stop you but just try to find out for sure, okay?" he said.

Sherlock slipped his coat and scarf on. "Fine, John," Sherlock said. "You are clearly an expert at picking partners, which is why you date a different woman every night." He glanced over. "Look -- I'm sorry. I know all you want is to find someone and I guess it's made me realise I need to as well. I used to like being alone, but now, because of you . . . I don't know. Let's not fight, okay?"

"I don't want to fight either," John agreed, not responding to anything else Sherlock had said. Why did he had to go looking for someone when John was right there?

"I'll be back tonight," Sherlock said. "I can be on my own, if you prefer." He left before John said anything else. As soon as he was on the street, he sent Stephen a text.

_Where are you? SH_

Stephen sent a reply with his location.

_I'll see you in ten minutes. SH_

Sherlock gave the taxi driver the address, and when they got to Stephen, Sherlock got out of the cab. "Let's go get something to eat," he said abruptly.

Stephen looked a little surprise, but quickly fell into step. "Everything going okay?" he asked tentatively.

"You told someone," Sherlock said flatly.

Stephen didn't say anything for a few minutes, trying to remember. "Yeah," he said. "Sorry."

"John heard you -- he must have been around when you were talking."  
  
"Fuck," Stephen said. "I'm sorry." He really was -- this was easy money and Stephen needed it. "Is everything ruined?"

"No," Sherlock said. "But it was quite unhelpful."  
  
"What's your goal with all this?" Stephen asked.

"It's none of your business," Sherlock said.

"You want him to be with you and you think you'll do that by getting a boyfriend?"

Sherlock didn't say anything.

"So what? He knows I'm not really your boyfriend then? Do you want me to talk to him or something?"

"No," Sherlock said sharply. "Don't speak to him -- don't ever speak to him if I'm not around. Just . . . we'll see how it goes."

They walked a little while longer. Finally, Stephen said, "So he doesn't like me now . . . he thinks I'm double crossing you?" When Sherlock said nothing, Stephen added, "Well, that's good, right? He's jealous."

"He's not jealous," Sherlock said flatly. "He just wants me to find the right person and you apparently are not the right person." 

"And he is?"  
  
"Yes, he is," Sherlock said. "He's just unwilling to see that."

They were silent for a few moments and eventually, they were back where they started -- they had walked in a wide circle. Sherlock gave him Stephen some money and said he'd be in touch tomorrow. He then walked to a cafe and drank tea for a few hours before heading back to the flat.

John spent the evening with his mind racing to different scenarios of why Stephen would be lying. Was it a joke or something more sinister? How long would he keep it up before he dumped Sherlock? He was tired, but he wouldn't go to bed. He waited in the sitting room, pacing every once in a while, hoping they were just having a normal date and nothing bad was going to happen to Sherlock. Would he see the signs? Would he want to? John wished they could go back to that very first night and start over. He shouldn't have reacted so aggressively to Sherlock assuming John was asking him out. He also shouldn't have rushed to correct anyone when they made the mistake of assuming they were a couple. How did Sherlock feel those things? Did he assume that John didn't care for him at all? Would he have been more likely to accept the truth about Stephen if he'd felt more loved by John? It wasn't the same, of course, was it -- the kind of love John felt for him. If it had been, John wouldn't still be looking for dates.

But what about the other thing Sherlock said? _One day you'll find what you're looking for and you'll leave._ But even thinking it now, here alone, he knew it was wrong. He wasn't going to go anywhere. He couldn't. It wasn't until this very moment that he knew he'd never leave Sherlock Holmes. 

Sherlock let himself in downstairs and then climbed the steps to the flat's door. He opened it, looking around. He saw John. "He's not with me," he said. "Can I come in?"

"Of course you can," John said, making it sound as if he wouldn't have cared if Stephen had been with him. Inside, though, John was really glad that he wasn't. 

Sherlock came in quietly, hanging up his coat and scarf. He went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. "Need a cup?" he called.

"Okay," John said, moving to join him in the kitchen.

"Did you go out tonight?" Sherlock asked as he poured the tea.

"No," he said, leaning against the door frame. "How was your date?" he asked.

"It was fine," Sherlock said. "He didn't try to murder me or steal any state secrets, if that's what you're worried about." He turned and handed John his mug.

"I'm worried about you," he said.

"I know about safe sex, John," Sherlock said jokingly. He moved over and sat down in his chair.

"That's not -- you know that's not what I mean," John said. He moved and sat down in his own chair.

"You know, it's odd," Sherlock said. "All those dates you've been on . . . I never liked a single one but I never 'investigated' them because I trusted your choices. Yes, they were dull but I trusted your choices, because I respect you." 

"I wasn't investigating, Sherlock. I heard him. And those women weren't being paid to be with me," he said quietly. "Sherlock . . . you deserve someone who really loved you."

"You don't know anything about it, John," Sherlock said. "Maybe he's what I need."

"No! You don't need lies and tricks, Sherlock."

"Maybe I do, John," Sherlock said. "I like tricks."

John sighed softly. "I can't stop you, but I won't stop worrying about you."

"Why?" Sherlock asked. He looked over at him.

"Because," he said lamely. He looked down at his mug and shrugged. "You're smart and handsome and you can find someone who's not using you."

"God," Sherlock sighed loudly. "He is not using me." He set his mug on the table. "He's not using me anymore than you are."

John looked up quickly. "I'm not using you!"

"Aren't you though? You like danger and since we met, there's been danger," Sherlock said. "And I use you probably. So perhaps Stephen is using me -- so what? That's just how it is."

"No, Sherlock. That's not how relationships are. You're my friend. I'm not just here for the cases," he said. "I care about you."

"Well, maybe he does as well," Sherlock said. "Is that so unbelievable?"

"Then why is he accepting money to date you? He should appreciate that you thought he was worthy of any of your time, let alone . . . that kind of time."

"You don't know what's really going on," Sherlock said. "And besides -- don't act like I'm such a prize. All you do is complain about how horrible I am to live with."

"Maybe I complain about your mess or your shooting the damn walls . . . but not you. You're my best friend, Sherlock," John said. He looked down at his tea again and stood up, taking the half empty mug to the sink. "You're an adult," he said when he came back. "You can do what you like, but please . . . just be careful."

"John," Sherlock said, turning to watch him. "I'm always careful. You know that."

John looked over at him as he headed towards the steps.

"John," Sherlock called, a little more nervously than he'd planned to. "Are we not going to be friends anymore because of this?"

John paused on the steps again and turned to face him. "We will always be friends," John promised.

"Everything's different now, John," Sherlock said. "I don't understand why. You've dated practically the whole time we've known each other . . . why is this different?"

John leaned against the wall and sighed softly. "You're not dating. You're being used and you refuse to see it. You don't deserve that. If you're really interested, I can help you find someone better."

Sherlock smiled a little. "You think you know what I'm looking for?" he asked.

"Yeah. It's what we're all looking for." For some reason, John couldn't make himself look at Sherlock.

"What's that then?" Sherlock said. "Because quite frankly I've got no idea what you're looking for."

John wanted to find someone to spend his life with, who he loved and who loved him back. And then it was all so clear. "I-I've already found it so . . . so I can help . . ."

Sherlock looked surprised. "Interesting," he said. "Why do I know nothing about this?" He moved in his chair. "Come back down. Tell me."

John looked up and hesitated. What was he supposed to do exactly? Tell Sherlock that he was talking about him? That all it took was Sherlock dating one person to make John jealous? To make him see what he'd been ignoring all this time? He came down the stairs slowly. "We're not talking about me now," he said.

"Aren't we?" Sherlock asked.

"No. We're talking about you and how you deserve better than Stephen," he said. John was at the bottom of the stairs now, but not close to his chair yet.

"Fine, share your wisdom, Dr Watson," Sherlock said. He patted around his chest as if he were looking for something as he added, "Should I take notes on this?"

John flushed. "Fuck off," he mumbled, turning for the steps again. "Excuse me for caring about you." He started up again, not looking at him.

"John," Sherlock called, moving forward in his seat. "I'm sorry -- it's just . . . this is unusual, our talking about this stuff. Mainly it's just been about you but like you said, now it's about me. Please don't go."

John stopped halfway up again. "I know what I heard. I'm worried he's going to hurt you -- not physically but emotionally. If you're finally interested in relationships . . . it shouldn't be like that."

"Then how should it be?" Sherlock said. "Don't get angry but if you're suggesting I be more like you, well, your relationships haven't really worked out that great, have they?"

"No," John said. "No, but he should care about you, not be out to get you."

Sherlock started to defend Stephen but then stopped -- what did it really matter? "And how do you know someone cares about you?" he asked instead.

"They don't play tricks, for one thing. They want to spend time with you, they enjoy that time more than anything."

"But I play tricks on you. Does that mean you think I don't care about you?"

"Not serious ones," John protested lamely.

"But those tricks are okay? I mean because of the other stuff about my wanting to spend time with you, about my enjoying that more than anything else?"

"Well, yeah, that's all okay," John said. "Because me and you . . . we're different."

"Why?" Sherlock said, shifting slightly in his chair. "Why are we different?"

"Because we -- I don't know, we just are. You know that -- you say so all the time."

"I do," Sherlock said. "I didn't think you were listening."


	5. The Pretending Ends

Sherlock looked over at John. "If it's not him," he said. "Who is it you think I need?"

John shrugged. "Someone better," he said. 

"And you're going to help me find him?" Sherlock asked.

"I could."

"Right," Sherlock said. "Until then I'm supposed to what -- sit at home while you got out all the time?

"I won't be -- I won't," John said, shaking his head.

"Why?" Sherlock said. "You just said you knew what you wanted -- why wouldn't you be out looking for it like you have been?"

John licked his lips. "I don't need to go out looking. I've found it," he said, shrugging again. 

Sherlock looked over at John. "When did this happen?" he asked.

John looked over at Sherlock. When had he started feeling like this? It surely wasn't two days ago. Hadn't he always felt like this? Why hadn't he noticed this before now? "Um, a while ago, it seems."

Sherlock wondered what was happening. Was John realising that they were right for each other? Or was it just some weird jealousy or -- god forbid -- had he actually found a woman he loved? "And what does this mean, John?" He took a deep breath. "Tell me," he said softly.

John moved into the sitting room properly and sat down with a small sigh. "I know it's not fair of me to say this after everything I've said before, but . . . it's you," he said.

Sherlock sat silently for a moment. "What really isn't fair, John, was making me wait so long," he said, his voice almost a whisper.

John's breath caught as he realised what Sherlock was saying. "I'm sorry. I've been so stupid . . .I'm sorry," he murmured. He reached out and touched Sherlock's hand lightly. 

"Perhaps I could have said something . . ." Sherlock mumbled. He turned John's hand in his own and held it softly.

"I want it to be me," John said quietly.

"All right," Sherlock said. He smiled a little. "That was pretty easy, wasn't it?"

John flushed. "Are you making fun of me?" he asked.

"Not at all," Sherlock said. "We are very good at many things, John Watson, but we don't seem very good at telling each other how we feel. I should have been more direct, but . . . I'm not good at feelings. I should have trusted the easy route."

John looked up at him. "I would care about you more than that idiot does," he said. John supposed he hadn't really considered it because he had been bringing home women instead of men. He wondered if Sherlock saw all of those women and thought he could care about John more than they could. 

"I know that, John," Sherlock said. "But he just helped you see that."

John did a double take. His brows furrowed lightly at the way Sherlock said that. "Did you know?"

"I knew how I felt and I . . . hoped you felt the same," Sherlock said. "But feelings are not my strong point so I wasn't entirely sure, I suppose."

"I meant about Stephen . . ." John said, slowly beginning to understand things. "Are _you_ paying him?"

"I --," Sherlock started. He swallowed awkwardly and then just said, "Yes."

For one second John was so angry he could hardly see straight. But in the next, he was coming down from it. He couldn't blame Sherlock at all for thinking that as the only way to make John see -- John hadn't really given him any other options. And even worse, it had worked. John took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I made you think that was the only way," he said. 

"I'm sorry I'm not better at the easier way . . . you know how I am," Sherlock admitted. "I could literally just not find the words or the ability to speak them aloud."

John nodded. "What would have been the plan if I hadn't overheard him? Was that part of it?" 

"No, that definitely was not part of the plan," Sherlock said. "I suppose I thought that after a day or two, you'd be overcome with jealousy and realise the truth. Then you heard him and got distracted by that trickery and then wanted to be a good friend." He glanced over. "You are a good friend but you're more than that to me. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah," John nodded. He held Sherlock's hand properly and smiled. 

"And is what you're saying similar to what I'm saying?" Sherlock asked, lifting John's hand to his mouth and putting a soft kiss on it.

"Yes," John whispered, clearing his throat softly. "Yes, it is," he said more clearly.

"And are you sure you're okay with that?" Sherlock said, putting soft kisses on John's wrist now.

John tried to think past the warmth flooding his body. He thought about everything, all of their time together and nodded. He would do anything to make Sherlock happy, and making Sherlock happy made John happy. "Yes," he said.

"I never wanted him like that. Or anyone . . . but you," Sherlock said. "Since I've known you, you've changed anything and made me feel. Feel things like love and desire, things I haven't felt in a long time." He couldn't believe how easy it felt to find the words and say them now.

"I've never felt this way about another man," John admitted. It sounded so incredibly cheesy but it was true. "But I know what I'm feeling. I do." He leaned forward and touched Sherlock's cheek, leaning more and kissing him softly.

Sherlock let John kiss him. "Will you come into my room with me?" he asked when they pulled their heads apart.

John licked his lips lightly and nodded. 

Sherlock stood and led John by the hand, walking towards his room. "He didn't stay here the other night," Sherlock said. "I . . . fooled you. Sorry."

John didn't say anything to that, but he hoped Sherlock didn't hear the sigh of relief that slipped out before he could stop it. "I'd like to stay the night," he said. 

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and looked down at his face. "I've only ever slept in this room by myself," he said. "I'd like you to stay with me tonight." He kissed him again, this time a little more intensely.

John hummed softly as he returned the kiss, holding Sherlock's waist for a moment before his hands began to move all over his back and chest. 

Sherlock leaned down and sucked the skin on John's neck. He inhaled John's scent, which was both familiar and new. He pulled John towards the bed.

John followed Sherlock, finding his mouth again for a hard kiss. "I can't stop thinking about this now," he confessed.

"I've thought about it, too," Sherlock said, lying them both down and pressing his body against John's. "I know this is what's right for us." He let his hands move over John's body as they kissed. He didn't want it to ever end -- all those days and nights together, without touching -- he didn't want to stop.

John hadn't been thinking about this the whole time like Sherlock had, but now that he was thinking about it he couldn't stop his mind from wandering. Or his hands, for that matter. As they kissed, his hand slid down and palmed at Sherlock's cock through his trousers. 

"John," Sherlock exhaled. "God, please. . . can we take off some of these clothes?" He reached round and started to open his own trousers.

John nodded as he pulled off his shirt, working at the button on his trousers as well. 

Once their clothes were off, Sherlock wiggled closer, reaching down between John's legs "We're naked," he said, smiling cheekily, as he kissed John again, holding his cock lightly.

John chuckled softly before he kissed Sherlock, moving his hips to get friction from Sherlock's hand, and reaching over to hold Sherlock's cock as well.

Sherlock started a steady stroke on John, and he moved his own hips to John's rhythm. "Fuck," he said, still smiling. "This feels good."

"Yes it does," John agreed breathlessly. He dipped his head to kiss Sherlock's neck and shoulder, sucking and biting at the skin.

"I like that . . . don't stop," Sherlock said, lifting his other hand to John's head and tangling his fingers in his hair.

John dipped even lower, moving his hand and hips faster. He licked over Sherlock's nipple, sucking and biting that as well. 

"Fuck," Sherlock said again. "John . . . everything you're doing is . . . right." He gripped him a little more tightly. "What . . . what do you want me to do?"

"This…everything..." he moaned softly, coming up to kiss his mouth again. "I really like you touching me, using your hand . . ."

Sherlock shifted slightly, trying to tangle their legs together as well. He sped his hand and hips a little. "I'm out of practice," he smiled. "I don't know how long I can last. . ."

John smiled into the kiss. "We can work on longer next time. I want you so much right now." He moved his hand faster, climbing on top of Sherlock.

Sherlock looked up at John. "God, don't stop --" he mumbled and did his best to keep his own hand going. His body was overwhelmed with feelings -- desire, pleasure, and a bit of relief that the truth was finally out. He reached his neck up to kiss John hard once more and then he felt his orgasm hit, taking over everything in him as it passed through. 

John gasped softly and watched Sherlock overcome with pleasure. Then he let go himself and came over him, moaning and murmuring his name.

Sherlock felt John spilling onto him. He could barely catch his breath. It was almost overwhelming really, and he looked up at John and smiled and then almost laughed a little. "I love you," he stuttered out. "I do, John. I love this too, I won't deny it, but it's . . . you." His face warmed and he closed his eyes for a moment to try to settle his breathing.

John leaned his forehead down on Sherlock's, panting softly. "I love you, Sherlock," he said.

Sherlock had never understood how meaningful those words could be until this moment. He pushed John so they were lying beside each other. "Sleep here, please," he said.

"Of course I will," John said as he held him close.

Sherlock fiddled mindlessly with John's hair and then tickled his fingertips down his back. "So . . . does this mean I'll have to break up with Stephen?" he asked, smiling a bit stupidly.

"You'd better," John said, smiling at the soft touch.

Sherlock closed his eyes. "Don't break my heart, John," he said softly.

"I won't," John promised. He was rubbed Sherlock's chest lightly.

"We'll be okay, right?" Sherlock whispered.

John nodded, kissing his forehead lightly. "We will."

"Good," Sherlock said. "Because I want us to be like this from now on. I mean, not nude all the time, but you know . . ."

John chuckled softly. "I know," he said. "I want to be like this from now on too."

"Mrs Hudson will probably have a heart attack, you know," Sherlock said, shifting a little to get more comfortable.

"We should tell her very gently."

Sherlock rolled onto his back. "Do you think everything will be different now?"

"Yeah, but not in a bad way," he said. He stayed on his side, close, his hand on Sherlock's sternum.

"Is this what you were looking for?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, all of this. Sex . . . love," John said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You're not going to be romantic to me all the time?" he said. "That might become annoying."

"I might be and you'll love it," John smiled.

"We'll see," Sherlock said. He shifted his arm around John. "I'm sleepy," he said as he yawned. "You're exhausting in more ways than one." He put a little kiss on John's forehead and settled his own head on his pillow.

John smiled softly. "I don't mind being exhausted with you. Let's sleep now," he said

Sherlock closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and felt his whole body relax. "I'm glad we're not pretending anymore, John," he said.

John nodded his agreement, settling comfortably with Sherlock.


End file.
